Do You Wanna Build a Snowman?
by Queen of Jinxing
Summary: Songfic between America and England using Do You Want to Build a Snowman from Frozen. Mentions war, human names, and a little angsty towards the end.


It was a cold afternoon in colonial America, fresh snow covering the green grass and more falling from the gray clouds overhead. Even the mansion-like house couldn't block out the cold, much to Alfred's discontent. He was bundled up in his winter gear, complete with a ski mask and thermal underwear.

Stupid Arthur wouldn't put more wood on the dying fire and he wasn't allowed to do it himself- he'd get 'burned'... Pssh- as if! He's the Hero, how could he get hurt?

Now, not only was he slowly turning into a popsicle, he was _so. Freakin'. Bored! _There's nothing to do- no one ever visits and his dumb big brother wouldn't leave his dumb room! It was so- so… dumb!

So, as he sat in front of the window and watched the white fluffy blanket his beautiful front yard, his imagination decided to take action. He imagined him and Arthur out there; they'd catch snowflakes on their tongues, make snow angles, and afterwards they'd come inside and Arthur would make hot chocolate and they'd snuggle around a _blazing _fire and Arthur would tell him stories and-and… _it'd be so cool!_

'Stupid!' he mentally berated himself, suddenly cutting off his wonderful daydream. 'You forgot snowmen! You can't play in the snow and not make a snowman! …At least, that's what Mattie said- right?'

Sitting there, he thought back to the few times he'd visited Mathew- the one time they had a huge snowball fight against Francis. 'Man! I forgot that too!'

With one last look out at the white that he'd hopefully be out in soon, he jumped from the sill and tore through the living room, through the hallway, stumbled up a flight of stairs, slammed into three walls, and finally skid to a stop right before his brother's door.

"Arthur?" he knocked, little fists surprisingly hard and loud on the oak door. "Do you wanna build a snowman? Com'on let's go and play!" he slid down the doors and tried to look under the crack, disappointed that all he could see were Arthur's feet. "I never see you anymore-come out the door, it's like you've gone away!" with this revelation, he sat back onto his haunches and huffed, crossing his small arms in irritation before he scrambled to his feet, stumbling slightly, before he tried to peer into the keyhole. "We used to be best buddies… and now we're not… I wish you would tell me why! Do you wanna build a snowman?" there was no answer and all he could see was the British man's back, so he decided to speak directly into the small hole. "It doesn't have to be a snowman-"

Then he got a response. Unfortunately, it was one he didn't want or really expect.

"Go away Alfred!" an irritated voice snapped through the door, harsh against the wheat-blonde's ears. He stood there for a moment, watching as his hopes for the day turned to mush and slipped through his fingers.

And he stood longer, just to make sure Artie didn't change his mind or open the door and say he was kidding.

"Okay… bye…"

A wheat-blonde, blue eyed, tan boy- looking to be around 14- rushed through the halls of his mansion-like house, intent on one certain room. A room he was never allowed into- and the person inside only left to go check on his other colonies or go home to England.

There was a rebellion- a revolution brewing… that's part of why he's here, standing in front of the oak door he grew to hate. The date was December 16, 1773… and, depending on how this man-to-door chat with Arthur goes, could be the day known as the Boston Tea Party (he swears! So what if everyone else thinks it's a stupid idea- it's so much better than 'the destruction of tea at the Boston Harbor'!).

If it went bad: he had his Indian disguise and horse ready. If it went good… maybe they'd go out and get a Christmas tree… Man, it's been _forever _since they last had a Christmas together! Now, Arthur stays in his room or goes and visits other colonies and Alfred would go and stay with the Washingtons- Patsy and Jackie were always fun to play with and Mrs. Washington made some of the best turkey…

Maybe Artie could make it better!

He knocked on the door with too much excitement and power than someone his "age" should have.

"Do you wanna build a snowman?" this time, he'd get right to the point. No beating around the bush! "Or ride our bikes around the halls?" Okay, maybe that one was a little stupid- Artie would have a heart attack before he let him ride _anything _in the house… Distantly, he recalled bringing in his pet pig (Boris) and riding like he was the most faithful of steeds; then Arthur came back from grocery shopping and not only dragged the huge, resisting pot-bellied pig into the pen about 500 yards away , he managed to force Alfred to clean the muddy floor and have a bath before nap-time.

Damn, now he's getting off topic! "I think some company is overdue- I've started talking to the pictures on the walls!" the groan left his mouth as he slid down the door, hearing the grandfather clock ticking annoyingly and staring at a portrait of Arthur shaking hands with William Shakespeare.

'Hang in there, Will…'

Then he continued quietly, as if he didn't want to be heard, resting his head on his knees as he continued to look at William. "It gets a little lonely… all these empty rooms… Just watching the hours tick by…" the clock continued on- letting him know that he sat there for about an hour… until he got up, disappointed once again.

On his way out the door and into cold he couldn't help but realize that the house wouldn't be different after the revolution… except maybe if he lost Arthur would spend more time with him.

The war was a hard one for both America and England and by the end of it, the 14 year old colony was a 16 year old war general- and country. The United States of America… That's his name now. And things can only get better from here, right? His wounds will heal, his people will get stronger, and the democracy will work; it has to work.

There's only one thing that the war wasn't able to fix… and that lead him to stand right in front of the door that held the unreachable. That held his enemy and friend, his brother and tormentor… the only person he wanted the attention and the respect of.

Hesitantly, he knocked on the door, leaning heavily on the door frame.

It creaked open, but no one greeted him.

"Arthur?" Once again, no answer. "Please… I know you're in there…People are asking where you've been…" it's true, George, John, Ben- everyone wanted him out of the new country… they don't understand why Alfred can't kick him out of the- _his _house… but, they haven't lived their whole life with the nation- they don't have the memories…

"They say have courage… and I'm trying to… I'm right out here for you-just let me in…!" at this, he could feel the tears began their trek down his bandaged cheeks and in his haste to wipe them away, he lost his grip and fell to his knees- hitting the concrete floors hard. "We only had each other… It was just you and me… now what are we gonna do?"

He didn't care if he was sobbing- he'd held this in for almost twenty years… All he wanted was his big brother to tell him it was okay- that he did the right thing and things could only get better.

And he still couldn't bring himself to go into the damned room! Why? He fought a war against the guy for fucks sake- why did he still care?!

"Do you wanna build a snowman…?" it doesn't matter that it's early September and there's not even a hint of snow on horizon.

'Please… just one… before I never see you again… One snowman- I even have his name picked out. Olaf. Could we… just Olaf and I'll never ask you again, I swear!' but as usual, there was no answer.

He sat there, on the hard wooden floor, sobbing into his hands. When he finally looked up, he only saw a pair of green eyes that looked as if they were cut out of glass. The intensity made the redness and bags around them unnoticeable.

One thing was for certain, as they stared each other down… They would not- ever- build a snowman.


End file.
